Rosalyn was about to answer her, but Jared got there first.
‘My father has a thousand parasols,’ he replied scornfully. ‘Some of them are bigger than this room. You are an ignorant little girl. My father’s people are all dark-skinned. It is your people who are strange with their red and white skins that burn quickly in the sun.’
Sarah Jane’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. No one had ever spoken to her in that way in the whole of her life. She was not sure how to reply; however, there was something about him that seemed to command her respect, so she reached for a cake and ate it in silence.
Mrs Buckley and Rosalyn stared at each other, both struggling against a desire to laugh, though Maria was clearly horrified, but wise enough on this occasion to keep silent. Before anyone could think of the right words to ease the situation, the door was thrust open and Sheba came bouncing in. Sarah eyed the dog uncertainly, but Jared called to her and she obliged him by jumping all over him and licking his face thoroughly. It was then that Rosalyn had an inspiration.
‘Jared,’ she suggested. ‘Why don’t you and Sheba take Sarah Jane into the gardens? She has never been here before so you could show her around the grounds.’
‘I’m not sure—’ began Mrs Buckley, but before she could finish, Sarah Jane was out of her chair, obviously eager to take up the suggestion. ‘Well, if you feel up to it, dear. I dare say a little air will not hurt you.’
Sarah Jane ignored her grandmother, her eyes firmly fixed on Jared. ‘Come on, then,’ she said with an imperious lift of her head. ‘I want to see the gardens.’
For a moment mutiny flared in Jared’s dark eyes, then he turned to Rosalyn, his manner clearly that of someone struggling to maintain his dignity in the face of severe provocation.
He inclined his head to her. ‘Since it is your wish, Miss Eastleigh, I shall take the…child into the gardens.’
He was fourteen, Sarah Jane thirteen and a half—but of course he was male and therefore superior.
Neither Rosalyn nor her aunt dared to so much as breathe until the pair had departed, Sheba enthusiastically following at their heels. Once the children were safely out of range, their eyes met in shared amusement.
‘Oh, dear,’ Mrs Buckley said, dabbing at her wet cheeks when she had stopped laughing a little later. ‘I just hope she will not suffer a relapse. But indeed, I think the fresh air may do her good. Celia does tend to be a little…over-protective of her children at times.’
It was the closest Aunt Susan had ever come to admitting that her beloved grandchildren might possibly be spoiled.
Rosalyn nodded but refrained from comment. The French windows were open and occasionally they heard the sounds of laughter—both Jared’s and Sarah Jane’s—mingling with Sheba’s barking.
Rosalyn, her aunt and Maria enjoyed a comfortable half an hour over the teacups, and when a slightly less immaculate Sarah Jane came rushing in with Sheba and Jared following behind, it was immediately apparent they had come to no harm.
‘Can I go to tea with Jared tomorrow?’ Sarah demanded impetuously. ‘May I? Please say yes, Grandmama!’
‘It is Rosalyn you should ask,’ replied Mrs Buckley. ‘I must return home in the morning. Your mother needs me.’
Sarah Jane turned her large, very bright eyes on Rosalyn. ‘Please may I? Jared has promised to show me all sorts of things. Please do say I might!’
‘If Jared has invited you…’ Rosalyn glanced at him. He had assumed his rather haughty expression, but the gleam of anticipation in his eyes betrayed him. ‘Then I see no reason why not. And now I must walk home with Jared as I promised his tutor.’
Sarah Jane’s instant demand to be allowed to accompany them was firmly denied by her grandmother. She was still recovering from a severe illness, and too much exercise might undo all the good playing in the garden had obviously done.
The afternoon was pleasant as they began their walk, a cloudless sky and a bright sun warming the air. Rosalyn was pleased to have the opportunity of some time alone with Jared.
‘You were very good with Sarah Jane,’ she told him as they left the orchard behind and started to climb a grassy bank. To the right was a small copse, to the left open fields in which horses grazed. ‘She can be thoughtless at times—but she has been ill. It will be nice for her to have someone of her own age to talk to now and then.’
Jared’s teeth were very white, gleaming against the dusk of his skin as he grinned at her. ‘She is not bad for a girl,’ he said. ‘At home the other children would not dare to talk to me as she does. But I do not mind it.’
Something in his eyes touched Rosalyn’s heart. She suspected he had been very lonely. She did not pursue the subject he had raised, understanding that anything he wished to confide must come naturally, without prompting.
‘I am sure Sarah Jane will be safe with you, Jared. Perhaps you could teach her some manners? I fear she has been indulged more than is good for her.’
They had almost reached the Orfords’ house now. Rosalyn’s heart took a flying leap as she saw the man coming to meet them. He was wearing riding clothes, but his coat was dark blue and he had taken more care with his appearance than on the first time they had met.
‘Miss Eastleigh,’ he said. ‘I returned earlier than I expected. Will you come in and take a glass of wine?’
‘Thank you, Mr Wrexham, but I must not stay. My aunt arrived sooner than we thought, but she is to leave again in the morning. I should go back now or she will think I am neglecting her.’
‘Then allow me to walk part of the way with you?’ Damian glanced at Jared. ‘I shall see you later. We have neglected our studies today and must make up for it.’
‘Yes, sahib.’
Rosalyn wondered at the change in Jared’s manner. Did he resent his tutor? He seemed subdued—but not frightened. Surely not frightened?
Sheba seemed uncertain when Rosalyn turned back, whining a little as if torn between two loyalties. Rosalyn ignored her and she ran after the boy.
‘You have lost your dog,’ Damian said. ‘Shall I purchase a similar animal for Jared and send Sheba back to you?’
‘No,’ she replied, glancing thoughtfully at him as they began to walk back the way she had come. Could he really be the man Aunt Susan had mentioned earlier? What was the truth of the scandal which had caused his exile? ‘I do not think that would serve. Jared has become attached to Sheba. Another dog would not be the same. Let him keep her for the moment.’
‘You are generous, Miss Eastleigh.’
She shook her head. ‘You must not imagine it to be a great sacrifice on my part. I am fond of Sheba, but she was foisted on me by my brother and has always been prone to roaming at will. I can spare her for a while. Besides, I have an ulterior motive…’
Rosalyn gave him a wicked look and went on to explain about her cousin’s daughter, particularly the way she had suddenly thrown off her sickly air after being with Jared in the garden.
‘I believe it may do them both good,’ she confided, raising her candid gaze to Damian’s face. ‘Jared has not led an exactly normal life, I think?’
‘It was not so bad while his mother lived,’ Damian replied. ‘His mother—Anna—did her best to give him some freedom, but when she died…circumstances changed.’
‘Yes, I see.’ Rosalyn sensed there was much more he was not telling her. She did not look at him as she asked, ‘Is it your intention to stay in England beyond the summer, Mr Wrexham—or shall you return to India?’
‘I have not yet decided.’ Damian frowned. ‘My business may take longer than I had imagined. Why do you ask?’
‘Oh…no particular reason.’ They had reached the orchard. Rosalyn stopped walking. She raised her head, giving him a challenging stare. ‘You need come no further, Mr Wrexham. I shall be perfectly safe—and I am sure you must be wanting your dinner after having been out for most of the day.’
He caught her arm, detaining her as she would have walked away, swin
ging her back to face him. His expression was harsher than she had previously seen it, his eyes angry.
‘What is it, Miss Eastleigh? What have you heard?’
Rosalyn hesitated, then breathed deeply. She supposed it was best to have it out in the open. ‘Nothing certain, sir—merely some gossip concerning an old scandal.’
‘Damn!’ Damian cursed aloud. ‘I had hoped to avoid this—it was so long ago. It seems I should have told you at once. I was sent away in disgrace by my own family.’
So her aunt had been right!
‘There is no need to explain. It is entirely your own affair.’
‘Is it? Are you not angry with me for concealing it from you?’
‘No, not at all.’
‘Indeed?’ His brows rose in disbelief, but as he gazed down into her eyes he saw that she meant every word. ‘You are indeed a remarkable woman, Miss Eastleigh. Are you not outraged?’
‘By something that happened twenty years ago?’ She shook her head. ‘I think not, sir. Besides, I do not truly know what happened—only that there was a scandal and you were cast out by your family.’
‘It was nineteen years and three months to be exact,’ he replied, his face reflecting bitterness, anger and, she thought, regret. ‘I killed a man, Miss Eastleigh. I have never tried to deny that—but it was a duel, and fairly conducted with witnesses to testify that I behaved properly. However, the circumstances…there were reasons why my family decided to disown me. Reasons I do not wish to discuss, even with you.’
‘You have no obligation to do so.’
‘Not yet…but under certain circumstances…’
He was going to kiss her again! Rosalyn felt suddenly breathless, her heart beating madly. She realised that she wanted him to kiss her, to hold her close to his chest, to make love to her. Her body was melting in the warmth of the wonderful new sensation flooding through her.
So this was desire! She had often wondered, but had never before come close to experiencing passion. It shocked and yet excited her to discover that she was capable of such strong feelings, for until this moment she had not thought it possible. She had never felt in the least inclined to welcome a man’s kisses before. Without her being aware of it, her mouth softened, parting invitingly as she gazed up at him.
‘Do not look at me like that,’ Damian said harshly. Her response had surprised him, even though he had guessed her capable of passion. ‘You can have no idea of the danger you risk at this moment, Miss Eastleigh. Remember! I have lived abroad too long to respect English customs. In India when a woman looks at a man that way…he knows how to react.’
Rosalyn felt the hot colour flood her cheeks. Goodness! She was inviting his embrace. What must he think of her? Indeed, what was she thinking of to allow it?
‘You do not need to remind me of your lack of English manners,’ she replied crossly. ‘If you will let go my arm, sir, I shall cease to look at you at all.’
Her obvious annoyance at being reminded of the impropriety of her own behaviour—and the fact that she had not denied it—broke the tension in him. He laughed and released her.
‘Forgive me, Miss Eastleigh. I am not usually such a brute—but you tempted me. I did want to kiss you. In fact, I wanted to do very much more. So you have no need to be embarrassed or to imagine yourself at fault. It was entirely my own decision. I beg you to show mercy. I fear I am a barbarian and do not deserve all the kindness you have already offered me.’
‘There is nothing to forgive. I was as much to blame as you—though it was very wrong of me. You must be thinking me shameless?’
When he smiled at her as he was doing now, Rosalyn was unable to maintain her anger against him. Something warned her she would be wise to cut the connection now while she could, that she was skating on thin ice and would pay the penalty for her foolishness—but deep inside her there was a feeling which would not be denied. It was almost as if she had been waiting for this moment, for this man, all her life.
‘Sarah Jane has been invited to tea with Jared tomorrow,’ she said. ‘I shall send her in the carriage at about three. You will permit Coachman and Nanny to wait for her?’
‘Will you not come with her yourself?’
Rosalyn shook her head. ‘Not this time, but we shall meet again soon, Mr Wrexham. At church tomorrow, perhaps—and you must come to dine with us when my brother arrives.’
She walked away then and he let her go.
She was a remarkable woman. She deserved much more than he could give her. He had thought to while away a few weeks by a mild flirtation, but he had suddenly discovered that his feelings toward Miss Eastleigh were anything but mild.
Rosalyn sat gazing out at the moonlit gardens. She had tried sleeping but was restless and found it impossible. Her strange thoughts had forced her to rise, but she was still unable to resolve them.
Why had she let Damian Wrexham turn her calm, pleasant world upside down?
Surely she had not fallen in love with him? No, of course not! They had only met three or four times. People did not fall in love just like that—did they?
Rosalyn sighed, twisting a strand of her long hair about her finger. She suspected that was exactly the way it happened. Oh, what an idiot she was! She had rejected so many offers of marriage when she was younger—all of them from very respectable gentlemen. Men of consequence, who had offered her a life of ease and luxury. Never once had she been tempted to accept—so why was she in such turmoil now? To fall for someone like Damian Wrexham was madness—foolish beyond belief!
Nothing could come of it, of course. Marriage was unlikely—even if it was possible. He might have a wife in India. No, no, she did not believe so ill of him. He must have mentioned it if he were married.
He would have had a mistress, of course. That was only natural. She would not expect him to have lived like a monk.
Rosalyn got up to return to her bed. It was wrong of her to allow her thoughts to take this route. If Mr Wrexham wanted a wife he would have married years ago. Besides, the very idea was out of the question. Not to be considered in the circumstances! Her family would all be against it. And anything else was impossible, of course.
Yet there had been a moment when she might have been willing to surrender all she held dear for love.
Rosalyn’s cheeks burned in the darkness. Mr Wrexham had sensed how near she was to capitulation. That was why he had drawn back, of course—acting the part of the gentleman he claimed he was not—but why? Why would he do that? Because he respected her, or because he did not wish to become involved?
Did he think her an old maid? He had laughed at the idea when they met, but it was not so very far from the truth. Rosalyn had given up all idea of marriage when her father died. Her grief had left her feeling empty, drained, willing to settle for the comfort of her home and the friends she had gathered around her. But now…now she was aware that the dissatisfaction with her life had been growing for a while.
Even so, she had not considered marriage as a way out of her situation. Until now… Oh, dear! Rosalyn laughed at her own thoughts. She really must not let her dreams run away with her.
Mr Wrexham was not here to find a wife.
Just why was he here? Rosalyn pondered the mystery as she lay watching the dawn slowly creep over her window-sill, quite unaware that, as the light strengthened and he rose from his bed, Damian’s thoughts were also far from easy. He too had spent a restless night chasing unwanted dreams—dreams he had imagined long dead.
Rosalyn saw him as soon as she entered the church the next morning. He was standing looking about him as though he wondered where he ought to sit. She hesitated, then touched his arm, smiling up at him as she whispered, ‘You may sit with us if you wish. I am sure Maria will not mind.’
‘Thank you. I did not wish to take anyone’s special place.’
Rosalyn went into the pew reserved for her family, Maria following behind. Mr Wrexham came after her. From the corner of her eye, Rosalyn saw him bend his head,
his lips moving in silent prayer. She had not been sure he would come. Or that he had retained the faith he had been born to—but it seemed he had despite the years spent in a foreign land.
Rosalyn said the usual prayers for her family and sat down. She carried her own Bible, which was covered in white leather. Mr Wrexham had none of his own, but Maria offered him hers and recited the prayers she knew by heart.
The Reverend Waller’s sermon was as usual long and slightly muddled, but Rosalyn felt uplifted by it in a way she had not for some time. Perhaps it was the very pleasant tenor voice of Mr Wrexham which seemed to bring the familiar hymns alive for her?
Afterwards, she filed out of church, pausing to speak to the vicar for a few minutes. Several of her neighbours were looking at Mr Wrexham curiously. She introduced him to Sir Matthew and Lady Sheldon, and their two rather pretty daughters, smiling to herself as an instant invitation to dine that day was issued. The Sheldons had three more daughters at home to see settled, and Mr Wrexham was looking very presentable that morning.
Rosalyn had been thinking of issuing a casual invitation herself, but reserved it for another time.
She nodded farewell to Mr Wrexham, then began to thread her way through the small group who still lingered, leaving him to make the acquaintance of his neighbours in his own manner. By taking him into her family’s pew that morning, she had given him all the credit he needed and she had no doubt he would soon be in great demand.
Rosalyn stood at the open landing window, gazing out. She could hear Sarah Jane’s squeals of laughter and wondered at the extraordinary change in the girl. In just six days she and Jared had become almost inseparable. They visited each other every day, not just for tea but for hours at a time. There was no doubt that it was doing the girl a great deal of good. One had only to look at Sarah Jane to see that she was happy, thought Rosalyn.
She, on the other hand had not seen Mr Wrexham since their meeting after church. Rosalyn sighed. How fortunate the children were! They had no need to consider anything but their own amusement. While she…was being very foolish again!
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